Chapter 11
“Miss Pie, mind if I ask you a question?” Standing outside of the door to a house, Flicker kept his eye on a bright red spot in his vision, a rat that had resisted Piper’s alluring music. There were a number of rats that had paid no mind to the siren’s call of Piper’s sweet, sweet music. It bothered Flicker more than he cared to admit.
“Well, truth be told, you just asked me a question,” Piper replied.
So he had. Flicker kept his eyes locked upon the red soon-to-be nonentity. “Miss Pie, when your mother singled me out, why did she do that?”
“Oh, that.” Piper’s deep sigh within her mask came out as a mechanical sounding wheeze. “My mother, like most Pies, has a Pie sense. She says that she can find good, trustworthy ponies, and it seems to be true. She used her earth pony sense to find my father, she’s always found the help she needs when she needs it, and she found you.”
“I see.” Flicker didn’t know how else to respond to Piper’s words, but he was flattered. “Miss Pie, the rat in here, he’s resisted your magic. He’d probably resist a candle too. He thinks he’s safe under the floorboards, ‘cause that is where he is, but he’s not safe from us. We’re going to go in, you’re going to pull up a few floorboards, and then before the rat can escape, I’m going to do the standard grab and stab.”
“Right, Mister Rat Mulcher.”
“This is why we have swords. This house is a tinderbox. The wood is old and kind of rotten. There is a thatched roof. Setting the rat on fire is too dangerous, so stabbing him will have to do. In the sewers, flame is also very, very dangerous.” Flicker allowed his words to sink in for a moment before he continued, “But I think you’re smart enough to know that. Do you think you could use your sword if you had to?”
Piper’s expression was unseen behind her mask. She stood there for a time, unmoving, and then after several long seconds, she replied, “Sure. I’ll just think about that bratty bully that constantly pulled my tail in school… I think after I do that, it should be easy.”
“Miss Pie… Piper, killing doesn’t come natural or easy for most ponies. Sure, you think it feels easy, but thinking about it and doing it are two very different things. I’m a killer—”
“So I’ve noticed!”
“—and at night, I sleep like a yearling. Well, most of the time. I have bad dreams, but I don’t feel bad about what I do. Look… what I’m trying to say is, if you are feeling doubt, or worry, or you feel fearful, don’t risk your peace of mind. Let me do it.” Turning his head a bit, Flicker tracked the movement of the rat hiding beneath the floor.
“Thank you, Mister Nicker, I shall keep that in mind. Now, let’s go and get that rat, I feel as though he is mocking us, and I don’t like it!”
This house, like the others, was a palace for rats. The floor was bare boards over dirt, and there were gaps in the floorboards that allowed food to fall through. The thatch roof was bright orange with fleas and no doubt other parasites as well. The beds were mattresses stuffed with straw.
Killing the rats here almost felt like a pointless task, but Flicker was going to do it anyway. The rats would return, they would come by the waterways, by ship, they could come in cargo, and soon enough, this tiny village would be infested again. The Las Pegasus branch would no doubt to be too busy to look after these ponies, so the cycle of disease would begin anew.
How was a poor community supposed to protect themselves? Flicker didn’t know. For a brief second, it almost felt hopeless, but then he knew that he would return if he had to so that the rats could be purged again. This was a never ending war, but Flicker was ready and willing to fight it, right to his own bitter end if necessary.
Piper pulled up the floorboards and he reacted, moving on instinct. Grabbing the rat in his telekinesis, he lifted it up and then ran it through with his sword. He watched as Piper put the floorboards back down and then pushed the nails back into their holes. As he stood there, as the rat was dying, he saw Piper’s masked face turn towards the disgusting, greasy looking rodent.
“I hope it hurts.” Piper’s voice was a menacing, mechanical sounding thing of malice. “Die in pain.”
“Miss Pie?” Flicker stood there, holding his rat-kebab, which squeaked.
“In my mother’s bakery… I could hear them sometimes, sometimes I saw them, and I was always so scared of them when I was just a little filly. I’m not so little now. I see the threat they represent to us. It’s us or them, isn’t it?”
Flicker nodded.
“That one has the plague.”
Again, Flicker nodded, as he did so, his rat-kebab stopped wiggling, and the slashing tail went still. It had the plague. Now it was a contaminated corpse in need of disposal. It was now just so much flesh and bone, alchemical ingredients, it was a thing, an object. It was past tense. It was an ex-rat. It had gone on to join the squeaking horde invisible.
“Let me kill the next one.”
“Of course,” Flicker replied, “follow me.”
When Doctor Sterling saw the carnage all around him, he turned tail, ran, and when he was a good distance away, he jerked his mask off. A second later, he spewed forth a geyser that was the remains of his breakfast. The good doctor had survived much, seen much, but all of his experiences hadn’t prepared him for a village square filled with mulched rat.
Flicker and Piper moved among the mangled, mutilated bodies, which squished beneath hooves covered with thick protective rubber. The doctor recovered, wiped his muzzle, and put his mask back on as Flicker and Piper entered another house to hunt down a surviving rat.
The doctor shuddered inside of his protective suit, shivering at the holocaust of rats. Flicker had the right cutie mark, he was the walking, talking rat apocalypse, he was the death-god of rodents. This was going to be quite a story to tell Wicked, a story told over brandy, or maybe whiskey, or maybe brandy and then whiskey.
Flea candles burned in every house and every building. In the immediate area of the village, there were no more red splotches, but there was still a good bit of orange. Flicker surveyed his work, feeling very much like the lord of his domain. Beside him, Piper stood in silent celebration, having killed a few rats with her sword.
Doctor Sterling, who had left Hennessy with the villagers, pulled Flicker’s wand out and then stood there, staring, trying to understand the immense bloodbath all around him. Flicker had used an aerator… an aerator to turn rats into pulp. The bloodied farm machine stood in the middle of town, a silent testament to the horror that had taken place here.
Using the wand, the doctor began conjuring water from the river, he drew in great amounts, and using the water, he began to freeze the mulched rats all around him, turning them into bloodied blocks of meat, bone, and ice. With his telekinesis, he stacked the blocks in neat, organised rows, and he fought against the urge to throw up again.
This cleanup would take hours, maybe even days if done in the conventional way. He thought long and hard about the frozen rat cubes, and decided it wasn’t worthwhile to save them. The barrels would leak and his ship would have a terrible stink on the way home. Waving the wand around, the doctor focused his powerful magic upon the task at hoof.
As the fleas all around them began to dissolve, Doctor Sterling made a terrible decision. He began flinging frozen rat cubes into the river so that they could be washed out to sea. Never in his long career had he ever seen anything like this, and he wasn’t sure if Wicked would even believe him.
He pitied Princess Luna, who would know the horrors in his mind, Flicker’s mind, and in the mind of young Miss Pie, who could not possibly be considered an innocent any longer. She had seen the horrors of war, and Flicker had shown her such wondrous things, such great and terrible sights. The doctor felt a sense of melancholy; the filly was okay, fine even, she had witnessed the rat holocaust first hoof and seemed no worse for wear.
She was a natural and she was going to go far, but the doctor had a hard time feeling happy about it as he flung frozen rat cubes into the river. Most ponies who joined the rat catchers had rather standard talents. Wicked made candles. Balister had a crossbow cutie mark. Some had talents for fencing, some for alchemy, some for tracking, but Flicker’s sole purpose, the reason for his existence, the very reason why he had been born, was to kill rats.
And here, in this backwater, this little hamlet in the middle of nowhere, Flicker had come into his own. Doctor Sterling could not help but feel a grim sense of pride. The village had been purged in record time, and now, it was time to go and thin out the population in the surrounding countryside. It was time for him to bring the supernatural horror that was Flicker to the rats, so that the rats could face judgment.
It was time to exterminate the little brutes.
As Hennessy stood watch over the villagers, he could not help but notice their suffering. Some had bald patches. Many had flea bites. Some had notched ears where the rats had nibbled them. A few were sick, and of those few, some had the plague. The doctor had already begun to treat them. Hennessy had sniffed them out.
His entire life was changing and he didn’t know how to feel about it. He had saved lives. He had helped to stop disease in its tracks. The colt didn’t know how to react to it. His upbringing had not prepared him for this and his many prayers, he had not expected them to be answered.
The villagers eyed him with a mix of reactions, some were curious, a few were fearful, but many were thankful. Because of him, sons and daughters would live, fathers and mothers, families would remain together. That meant something. That was no small thing. He looked at the ponies that the doctor had given the first dose of treatment to. Some of them were nauseous, some were sprawled out in the grass, soaking up the sun, and all of them were drinking water, lots of water, because they needed to drink water. Doctor Sterling had said so.
At some point during his contemplations Hennessy realised that he would do this even if he wasn’t getting paid. This was good work, this was the will of the alicorns, this was the path of righteousness. Bowing his head, he began to pray, just as he had always done, only now, instead of deliverance, he was going to offer a prayer of thanks.
He had an obligation to deliver others, so that they too, could have their prayers answered.
“The village will become infested again.” Flicker’s voice was a mechanical monotone because of his mask. “This place is a rat paradise. Some of the houses have dirt floors. The outhouses are breeding grounds for pestilence. Something needs to be done, but I don’t know what.”
The doctor nodded, let out a resigned sigh, and said nothing. Flicker was absolutely right and he felt as though he was going through the motions here. If there was ever another massive pandemic of plague to break out, it would happen here, in a place like this one. These little backwaters would be the birthplace of something that could cripple civilisation. Modern sanitation helped, but it was no guarantee.
“How do we make things better if we cannot deal with the cause?” Piper asked.
“We can’t.” Doctor Sterling felt bad for being honest, but Piper needed to know. “At best, in situations like this one, we can go through the motions to ease our consciences, but we’ll be back out here before the fall harvest. We can do our best to help them, but no, we are powerless to treat the root cause here.”
“What’s this about some root cause?” Hennessy’s slow drawl sounded funny when it was filtered through his mask. “I don’t understand.”
“Poverty.” There was anger in Flicker’s voice. “I grew up poor.”
“That is certainly a part of it,” Doctor Sterling agreed. “Yet the ponies of Canterlot are plagued by rats too, even with their stone towers and grand rowhouses made of brick. Poverty certainly makes this much, much harder for these ponies.”
“Wouldn’t some cats help, perhaps?” Piper’s masked face turned to look at the doctor.
“They had some cats,” Hennessy replied, “but they got sick and died. I think the plague got them. Dogs too. I done talked to them ‘bout that.”
“Then how do we win this?” Piper’s voice was now an upset whine. “This just feels so hopeless… I can’t bear this feeling!”
“There is little we can do,” Doctor Sterling replied, “but to keep doing what we are doing. It is the only recourse we have. We have a terrible, thankless job. The best that we can hope for is to treat outbreaks as they happen. We try to keep areas of advanced civilisation as well defended as possible, and do what we can for backwaters like this one. This is our way of life. We fight an endless struggle, from which we will likely get no reprieve. Is this the life you want?”
Flicker made no reply, as he had already chosen his path. He had chosen perpetual war.
Hennessy, after a moment of thoughtful consideration, nodded.
“If it is the last thing I do, I’m going to find a way to keep all ponies safe,” Piper said. “I’m going to make this better somehow. I’m going to find a way. It doesn’t feel right to give up, but it feels dreadful going forwards.”
“Such is the life we have chosen, my apprentices…”
It might need an edit or two, but my editor in chief is sleepin' on the job! 
G'night.
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I only spotted one.
- 'blocks of'
A little gorey but over all an interesting story. It's a paRyan of society we don't see and don't want to think about
What if they gave them cats like Spud? Then the plague wouldnt boter the cats ^^
I think I laughed more at this chapter than any other one in this story. The unadulterated black humor appealed to me to me this morning. Dr Shoe: best reactions.
And, yet, there is that particularly thoughtful scene at the end. Two thumbs up.
7749374
Ponies fear what isn't the norm. Spud is anything but normal. Cats like him would cause panic and possibly worse.
7749374
Spud can technically get the plague, but he is very, very resistant.
Fleas have certain foods they prefer. Spud has been rendered almost inedible.
Certain animals are very, very vulnerable to the plague. Rats, cats, dogs, rodents, rabbits, squirrels, bats, and horses.
7749525 No fur means no home for fleas to latch onto.
7749579
And a taste of blood that doesn't agree with fleas.
Before I keep reading this, does flicker get shipped with a dude? If so, I ain't gonna read it. Not to say that I have anything against people who are into that stuff, but I'm not, and if a story has a ship in it it's always a major part of it for me, whether the author intended it thusly or not.
An effective way, good doctor. But what if the cubes melt before they reach the sea?
7749634
The fish eat well, for certain.
7749601
This is probably relevant: https://www.fimfiction.net/group/210355/weed-world/thread/289633/exciting-announcement
7749580 Huzzah, the resistance has been doubled!
img14.deviantart.net/e41c/i/2014/199/8/d/luna_and_some_kitties_by_mlj_lucarias-d7r96yd.jpg
7749640
Yersinia pestis cannot survive over 55° celsius, but it can survive freezing. I'm worrying for the water quality down the river.
7749683
Fish, salmon, river monsters, sure, it wasn't the wisest thing to do, but nature will manage. The rats are already swimming in the river to get from point A to point B.
7749696
Eh, true.
That last bit... almost made my feel like I was reading something from Black Library, keep up the good work.
Damn this is really depressing. Like really, really depressing. I...I don't know how to express what I'm feeling. All I can say is you are doing a very good job with this story. Heck all of the stories you have in this world are great.
All I can really say is to keep on doing what you're doing.
Why the fuck, would you throw those blocks of death and suffering, in a fucking river?
7761105 food for the fishes. The circle of life completed.
That should not be happening,
This is Grogar's work.
7771562
Dogs and cats are susceptible to the plague. They get fleas.
Made me chuckle when others saw Flicker's work
7771562 the master could be grog tho
If only I knew what Flicker was thinking...
REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM REDRUM
They just need to ask Bucky to make some golems for them
hmmm-hmmm fishfood cubes.
I'm starting to wonder why exactly Canterlot has such a rat problem. The rat population in these little hamlets is bad, but understandable, but given how scientific the Guild's approach is, you'd think they'd do a lot of research into cause and prevention of rat outbreaks.
Though it was mentioned earlier that the reasons for the Canterlot rat population are unknown. How bad are the other major cities in comparison?
Seems off. Should probably be "that could cripple civilisation"
This rat is no more! He's ceased to be! He's expired and gone to meet his maker! He's a stiff! Bereft of life he burns in hell! If he wasn't spitted on my sword he'd be pushing up the daisies! His metabolic processes are now history! He's off the twig! He's kicked the bucket, shuffled his mortal coil, ran down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisible. THIS IS AN EX-RAT!
Nice Monty Python reference in there. Pity there are no Lumberjacks about, although our delightful country bumpkin could probably fill the role.
8207699
are you kidding? Even here in this world we have amazing tech, poison, reats adapyt and develop a sense to identify it or develop an immunity. Traps, when a rat dies in a trap they pee on it and the scent warns others. Rats are the ultimate survival machine, humans have beetn tirelessly trying to wipe em out for centuries. Yet in the city ya can't move 50 feet without being within range of one. Wildies are smart and they breed like, well, rats. Here we're talking about rats intelligent enough to argue and intimidate.
I think this needs the 'Gore' tag....
Oh this is just perfection !!
rat a cake rat a cake, flickers hate, as the rodents all aerate.